Heero Would Play Bass
by Princess Sassafras
Summary: Shortfic. In an Alternate Universe, the Gundam Boys comprise a 21st century band. What instrument would Heero play? My take!


Heero Would Play Bass

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The elevator door closed and the woman next to him was carrying a box of files. She was much too old to be looking desperately at any part of him. Her eyes were hungry and she bit at her lip purposefully like a fake MTV video girl. Heero was slightly uncomfortable. He shifted to the left.

"You in the research department?" She was trying to sound twittery, and was wrinkling her nose. He tried not to look.

"Cooperative research."

"Oh," she said. "That's _very_ nice."

Heero concentrated on keeping his shoulders level until the elevator halted and the doors glided apart. "It was good talking with you," she said, smiling back at him and she flounced away. He nodded curtly. Sometimes women were painful to watch. Heero jabbed his thumb at the button labeled 'one'. He fingered his collar, gingerly unbuttoning the top button. He straightened the hem of his jacket.

He had been plagued with the uncomfortable feeling that he'd left his headlights on all day, or his trunk ajar. When he reached the right floor and walked out the swinging door and into the parking lot, he saw that his lights were off and his trunk was indeed shut. He took a pressure gauge from his coat pocket and checked his tires, lowering carefully each time to one knee so as not to rip his slacks on the asphalt.

Satisfied, he circled and got into the driver's seat, setting his file folder on the passenger side, but before he could put both legs into the car and close the door a man in a worn green jeep screeched to a halt next to him and got out cursing. Thick smoke was billowing from his hood. Heero got out of the car.

"Can I help you?" he asked, motioning to the man's vehicle.

The man stopped cursing and looked up at him, his eyes wide in frustration. "The damn thing's falling apart! I mean..." he raised his hands, then lowered them and shoved them into his pockets in a motion of resignation.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be?"

The man looked up startled, as if he hadn't just seen that Heero was there. "Um, yeah, I've gotta be at work at six. Twelve miles."

"I have the shop number eight blocks away. You should call them; they're reasonable."

"Um, thanks man." The man squinted at him. "You wait in parking lots?"

"Pardon?" Heero already had out his cells phone and was searching the directory.

"I mean..." he laughed in a barking sort of way. "Do you hang out here waiting for people to break down?"

Heero blinked. "No."

"Could've fooled me."

"I can give you a lift to Sterlington, if you would like."

"Great! Thanks!" The man immediately began to walk away from his own car and towards Heero's.

"You should lock it." Heero nodded at the man's smoking vehicle.

"Psht! No one wants it." But seeing the look on his face, the man rerouted and checked his doors.

He came back and Heero had already cranked his car. It was the cleanest car the man had ever seen. "Man, don't see how you business types keep it like this with all the paperwork. Mine should be clean, seeing as it's full of trash. You don't have to organize trash." Heero said nothing, but looked at the man pointedly until he fastened his seatbelt.

"You..." the man trailed off, and then shook his head and merely said, "Thanks again."

"No problem."

When they had reached their destination and the man was talking loudly with the mechanic---who seemed to speak his language--Heero waited patiently until there appeared to be a verdict, then he began to get back into his car. Before he could go anywhere, however, the man came up to his window. He was smiling in a bewildered sort of way and glancing repeatedly through the back window. "Hey man," he said, "you play that?"

In the back seat of Heero's spotless Volvo was a black leather guitar case. It was laid straight and belted down like a valuable passenger.

"Yes."

"Man, it's gotta be bass! 'Cause you sure don't look like the type to play an electric squealer!" The man looked sure.

"It is. Bass." Said Heero. He made an attempt to smile at the man when he wouldn't let go of the window, and the man cocked his eyebrows in further disbelief.

"You must be one of those closet rockers."

Heero had no idea what to say.


End file.
